


Cold and Broken

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s03e22 Posse Comitatus, F/M, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-05-01
Updated: 2003-05-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 06:25:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15113666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: "This is what we do."





	Cold and Broken

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Cold and Broken**  
**by:** Kasey

**Character(s):** CJ, Toby  
**Category(s):** Friendship, POST-EP: Posse Comitatus  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Disclaimer:** don't own 'em, etc.  
**Summary:** "This is what we do."  


She's been gone too long, I think as I sit through hellish King Henries or...or are we on to Edwards by now? I don't know, and lemme be clear - I don't give a damn what king it is, there's far too much singing and dancing for a play with the word "War" in its name. 

There's especially far too much singing and dancing for any play I have to sit through. 

I slip carefully out of my row and into the hallway, looking for Ron to ask him where she is. 

He's sitting down on a bench. In all the time I've known Secret Service Agents, I've learned this: they don't sit except in the car. Sometimes - SOMETIMES - on Air Force One, but for the most part, they don't sit down. "Ron?" 

His head snaps up. "Hey, Toby, do you need something?" 

"Where's CJ? You pulled her out of the performance and she's been gone awhile - is everything okay with her?" 

"Toby, Simon Donovan was shot and killed." 

I think I just stare at him for a moment before asking "The guy who was after her?" 

"No. A coincidence - Agent Donovan was on his way to the field office and he stopped at a convenience store during a robbery-in-progress; He apprehended the first suspect and radioed for the NYPD, then a second man shot him." 

"Where's CJ?" 

"She went to get some air, I think she went that way." He points, and I'm out the door as quickly as possible. 

I don't know this area of town as well as I know others - I'd be doing better if we were at Yankee Stadium, that neighbourhood I know, but this one...I was here when Andi dragged me, and a couple times when the President dragged me, it's not somewhere I am a lot. She could be anywhere, for all I know, but I... I've gotta find her. 

Luckily, she doesn't know the city at all, and she's conscientious even when she's crying, so I doubt she took any sort of sideroads. 

Surely enough, a few blocks away, I see someone with blonde hair, wrapped in a black shawl, sitting hunched over on a bench. I sit quietly down beside her. "CJ." 

She jumps, drying her eyes hastily. "Hey, Toby," she says, trying to sound like there's nothing wrong, because that's how she always is, even around me. 

"I'm...sorry...about Simon..." I offer quietly. 

"Yeah. Well." She swallows hard and her eyes glass over with tears again. "It was inevitable, I guess." 

"What?" 

"I said it was inevitable." 

"Why?" 

"Because I finally found someone to date," she says with a bit of a smile so I'm not sure how much of it is joking and how much of it she really believes. "Besides, that was his line of work, so going down in the line makes sense." With a sort of rueful laugh, she mutters, "Take that, conceal-carry crazies..." 

"CJ?" 

"He was-...He had dead-on aim, Toby, if anyone could've hit the guy it would've been him, and yet he's dead and the guy's not, so for all the people who are convinced that if the victim's carrying a weapon that they'll be safer...yet another story of why they're wrong." This is sounding very familiar...after Rosslyn she said about the same thing, I think, I...honestly don't remember too much of what else went on that night. 

"Yeah." 

"Yeah." She stares across the street and I see her chin quiver just a little in the light of the streetlamp. "I, uh...I've gotta find the number for Big Brothers and Sisters of DC..." 

"Why?" 

"He was a Big Brother, I've gotta call-...Anthony, I've gotta call Anthony..." 

"Simon's Little Brother?" 

"Yeah...I don't know his last name, but I should...I should tell him-..." 

"I'm sure someone's taking care of it." 

She nods again and draws in a shaky breath. "I talked to Josh- I think I saved him from a fight with Amy." She forces a lopsided grin. 

"Quite probably." 

"I just-...we were gonna have drinks..." she whispers, crumbling rapidly. "...we were gonna have drinks and he liked me in this dress and now he's dead..." 

"C'mere," I murmur, and she clings to me, sobbing against my shoulder, just like she did after she saw Josh for the first time after Rosslyn and it scared her; just like she did when her dad started getting worse; just like she did after Leo told her about the President's MS; just like she did after she finally left that bastard of an ex-boyfriend who used to beat on her just for kicks. 

That's our routine. This is what we do. When things get bad, she cries on my shoulder and I stay strong for her as much as for myself. And if things are bad for me instead of for her, she does something to make me laugh - which takes a lot - like falling into a pool or The Jackal or making up words to songs. 

When you've been friends as long as we have, there's a sort of routine to go by, something unspoken but that's always the same, which is comforting in its sameness. 

This is what we do. 


End file.
